


The First of Many Sorrows

by AlwaysJohn



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst and Humor, Happy Ending, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2020-05-20 10:47:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19375171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlwaysJohn/pseuds/AlwaysJohn
Summary: One past sorrow that will not be deleted.





	The First of Many Sorrows

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you, scrub456 for help with the italics. I'm going my happy dance!!

Sherlock stretched out an arm to the other side of the bed and curled it around...not John. Throwing back the duvet, he sat on the edge of the bed as his brain struggled to come on line. 

“John?” Silence wrapped around him. 

While pulling his dressing gown over his pyjamas, Sherlock padded down the hall to the kitchen. 

No John. He growled, annoyed with himself for sleeping through John’s departure. And not giving him a goodbye kiss. 

It had been a difficult case; it always was when there were missing children. John was always emotionally involved in these sorts of cases, more so now that he was a father, and the two days it had taken to solve it had him on edge, frustrated and angry. John’s only saving grace was that Rosie was safe with Molly for a sleepover, but still he was restless, tossing and turning and murmuring, waking them both throughout the night. 

Tea and toast with jam, he decided, setting aside his thoughts for the moment. Perfect. Turning on the kettle, Sherlock collected the necessities, gathering them together on the worktop. When he curled his fingers around the fridge handle his attention strayed to the calendar on the door and John’s most recent note beside it.

With a sickening realisation, all the data he’d been too busy to think about because of the case suddenly coalesced at the forefront of his thoughts.

The little notes left for him over the last week expressing how much John loved him, how happy he was that he had come back to him, that he was a genius and he would solve the case and find the children.

_He was happier than he could say that he was alive and had come back to him._

Sherlock tapped the date with his finger.

“Shite. Sorry, John,” he offered as an apology for his vulgarity.

With John’s safety warning for the kitchen echoing in his head, he turned off the kettle, unplugged the toaster and ran to the bedroom. After pulling on jeans, a T-shirt and trainers, he strode halfway down the hallway, stopped, and turned back to the bedroom. Surveying the room from the doorway, his gaze came to rest on the small note on John’s nightstand that his mind had only now recalled. 

_I love you._

Notes, five notes. Notes. He’d missed it. He hadn’t read between the lines. What was there? Between the lines? Sorrow? Was it sorrow? Why was it sorrow? John had not had dark thoughts for months. Why now? What was he sorry for?

_This phone call. It’s...It’s my note. That’s what people do, isn’t it? Leave a note?_

“John. No...no...no..” He dragged in a breath as panic rose in his throat. “No, you wouldn’t.do.that.”

Sherlock closed his eyes for just a moment.

“Oh.” 

Sherlock flew down the stairs and out onto the pavement. As always, a cab pulled up at his raised hand. He jumped in before it came to a full stop. 

“Barts jumping spot in less than eight minutes, Tim.”

“In five, Mr Holmes.”

In an emergency it was always to his advantage to know a few cabbies by name who patrolled Baker Street. 

“There he is, Mr Holmes.”

“Stop here...and keep the fare running.”

“Righto, Mr Holmes.”

As he climbed from the cab, Sherlock was finally able to release the breath that his lungs had held captive since realising John was not at home, nor at the surgery. The knot in his stomach slowly unwound as he approached his doctor.

John stood at the edge of the walkway, his gaze not fixed on the roof, but on the ground beneath his feet. Sherlock observed him from just a few steps away, allowing him his privacy while sensing the turmoil and sorrow he obviously still carried on his shoulders.

This first sorrow of their friendship, had receded somewhat, but not in total as he could now see. There were other sorrows for which he, Sherlock, was responsible. Each had battered John’s heart black and blue, but his soldier was still standing, struggling, but moving forward a step at a time. 

Closing the small distance between them, Sherlock silently stood waiting at his side.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

“I frightened you.”

“No.” He lied. “Yes,” He un-lied.

“I wouldn’t have.”

“I know.”

“But you...”

“Yes, , but for just a moment.”

John nodded, his gaze still locked on the pavement, his hands clenching repeatedly. 

“I thought if I came here today I could finally put that memory to rest, y’know, come to terms with it? I wish I could delete it like you do, and move on. All the other memories have faded with time, even the memories of Mary are easier to look at, but this one is as vivid as it was the day you...the day it happened.”

“The first of many sorrows.”

“Yeah.”

Sherlock chose his next words carefully. “Perhaps there is a reason you can’t delete it?”

John seemed to consider it. “Or maybe I can’t delete it because it’s supposed to remind me how much I lost and to never take you for granted.”

“You loved Mary...and you adore Rosie.”

“I loved Mary, I did, but I wasn’t in love with her.”

“Oh.”

“You see everything, but you didn’t see that it was always you?”

“No,” he whispered. “I wanted you to be happy. That’s all I ever wanted. ”

John finally lifted his gaze, but before their eyes met, Sherlock pulled John against his body, holding him with strong arms across his shoulders. John leaned into him, circling his arms around his waist.

“No, Sherlock. It wasn’t all you ever wanted. Mary saw, she knew from the first moment she met you. And she saved your life so I could save yours.” It’s all so simple, really.” John gestured to the sky with a wave of his hand. For some reason, the universe or whatever is out there decided we should be together.”

“Far be it for us the second guess the universe. I have you now, John, and I will never leave you again.”

John sighed against his sternum, the warmth of his breath tingling over his skin. “I know.”

“I promise to make a plethora of memories with you to soften the pain of all your sorrows.”

John tipped his head to look up at him. “Ah, how poetic. All right, but I always want to keep the memory of my miracle, you know, the-don’t-be- dead part?” 

“If you must,” he murmured with a lilt to his voice that was more like laughter. “I love you, John Watson.”

“And I love you more than I can say.”

Sherlock guided John toward the cab that awaited them.

“Then come with me, my lovely, and I shall take you to the stars.”

“Oh, more pretty words.”

“We’ll drop by Molly’s to collect Rosie. If we’re very lucky, perhaps Molly has changed her nappy recently.

John groaned. “Don’t go and spoil it, Sherlock. I rather like the poetry.”

“At some point Rosie does have to sleep, John. ”

John entwined their fingers and pulled him along. “Well, come on then, my lovely, get a wiggle on.”

Sherlock sighed. “THAT is definitely not poetry, John.”

“No, consider it...foreplay.”

“If I must.”

John giggled as Sherlock, with a hand on his bum, pushed him into the cab.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry if the inner thoughts are unclear. I don't know how to use italics when I copy and paste. Can anyone help? Please and thank you.


End file.
